


I'll Be There For You Like I've Been There Before

by dearmrsawyer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmrsawyer/pseuds/dearmrsawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wee!chesters and brussels sprouts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be There For You Like I've Been There Before

They sat – all 3 – at the dinner table of a shabby 2-star hotel on a chilly Wednesday evening, eating dinner together as they would any night that John Winchester was not out on a hunt, leaving his children to fend to themselves for the night.

“Sam, eat your dinner,” John said in a firm voice, leaning his forearms on the table.

Dean looked over at little Sammy who looked up at his father with deep, sorrowful eyes and Dean knew - had it been he who was asking Sammy to eat his dinner – he would have let it go.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat your dinner,” John repeated. Dean understood his father’s lack of belief in his little brother’s statement. If he didn’t fill up on dinner then he’d want a snack afterwards – something which would turn out unhealthy. He still felt a surge of his own mercy as his father’s mouth opened in preparation of an authoritative reply.

“That’s all you’re getting; so if you don’t eat it, you’ll go without.”

And that, Dean knew, was final. John lifted his arms off the table and continued with his own dinner; he didn’t look up at Sam again. 

Dean looked up at his brother – his eyes looked like they were swimming and Sammy turned his eyes down at his plate, his plastic fork held loosely in his tiny fingers. His bottom lip trembled dangerously and Dean could see Sammy constrict his own throat to try not to show his father a weakness. Dean continued watching as Sam plunged his form into a brussels sprout and lifted it – placing it into his mouth as silent tears sparkled down his cheeks.

Dean looked down at his own plate – only mash potato remained. He had finished his brussels sprouts not because he liked them but because he had learnt to deal. Sammy was only four; Dean watched his tiny jaw working away across the table to chew the repulsive vegetable and swallowed with a shudder.

There was a scrape of fork-on-plate and Dean’s eyes snapped to his father who scraped up the last of his dinner and slid his chair back, putting his plate into the hotel sink. He left the room with a last glance at his sons who were still finishing their dinner; Dean was having the last bite of his mash. 

After his father had exited the room, Dean’s eyes returned to Sammy who was looking sulkily at his two remaining sprouts. His drying eyes welled up again and Dean sprang up from his chair, coming around to Sam’s side of the table, taking his fork. Without a second thought, he stabbed the two sprouts and forced them into his mouth, chewing relentlessly until they were gone.

Dean took Sammy’s plate and with the hint of a smile to his little brother, piling it atop his own and his father’s. He then helped Sammy down from the chair and the two of them walked out into the lounge room where their father was cleaning a shotgun. 

“You finished your dinner?” he asked in a hard voice.

Sam looked at Dean’s reassuring face and looked back at his father, nodding happily. His father’s tone softened. 

“Good boy.”


End file.
